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Clash of the Dragons 10
Clash of the Dragons 10 is an encounter in Against the King. Enemies * King Crenus (Clash of the Dragons 10) (150 Gold, 150 XP, 150 Energy, 1 HP) Transcript Introduction But harshness breeds a hardened sort; A ruler's men can oft fall short And tyrannize those whom they ought To guide and guard instead of thwart And grind under brutal heels. The people chaffed beneath the yoke, Enraged by every truncheon stroke; In taverns' gloom sedition woke, Because of brutal heels. *** The soldier turns to you and screams. You don't blame her. You saw your face reflected on an enemy's shield, a mass of blood and cauterized flesh -- seared and sealed by your own burning hand. You're a demon, a terror. She tries to bring her halberd round. A glowing blade decapitates her first. The head tumbles away, broken coif dragging behind it like a tail. The next soldier manages to make his attack. But it serves him no better. Luminous steel shears his shaft and skull. Then you see him, across the melee, clashing in the midst of his enemies and allies. The man in gold. "Crenus!" Your sword swings in one direction. Sorcery blazes in the other. Bodies scatter, cast aside by a destiny beyond their comprehension. This is your battle. Your tale. Your legend. "Crenus!" The king doesn't hear. He's locked in combat, battling the rebels. Soldiers, mages, and Purple Tigers turn instead -- ready to defend their monarch. But you're done with minions. You intone the words of a spell, uttering each complex syllable, sword lowered despite the force charging towards you. Black smoke billows across the battlefield, smothering you all. Conclusion The king spun around. Ebon fog engulfed him, as dense and inscrutable as the violet clouds that had brought forth %name%'s demons. Black walls concealed friend and foe alike. "Crenus!" He turned towards the voice, weapon ready. "Crenus!" Steel flashed. He pivoted and parried. Metal clanged on metal. The bloody, half-mangled face of %name% Kasan grinned at him over crossed blades. "Your throne's broken," the Kasan said. "West Kruna is free." %name% disengaged %his% weapon and pulled it back for a big, wild, powerful hack. King Crenus stepped into the opening and drove his sword through the Kasan's throat. %name% laughed. Crenus began to turn, but it was too late. A glowing blade burst through his breastplate. "The Seluthas are finished." It was a chorus, spoken by the illusion in front of him and by the mouth beside his ear. Then all was darkness. *** The plotters sought to end his rule, To slay the golden dragon cruel; Across the sea they found their tool; Some call %him% hero, some a fool; A Kasan to wield the blade. So thus did fate a kingdom hurt; A monarch wanted to avert The crimson war that sowed the dirt, But destiny was made. *** "Is it true?" Ranlatta grabbed the soldier's arm. He tried to pull away, to continue his flight, but she held firm. "Yes!" he said. "The king's fallen!" The man tore free and continued running, joining the others who streamed past them on either side. Her warriors held their ground. But their faces were pale. Weapons quivered in their hands. "Orders, general?" Carmath said. "Do we-" "General Ranlatta?" a voice said. She looked round, into the face of Tessa Tullian. Carmath moved to attack. The general waved her back. The noblewoman had an arrow against her bowstring, but the weapon was lowered. "Yes," Ranlatta said. "King Crenus is gone, and your army's breaking. Call a surrender. There's no need for any more bloodshed." The general looked at her soldiers. And she knew that if she gave the word, if she led the charge, most of them would fight to the death. Would give their lives for a dead monarch and his broken throne. But Crenus had come to Burden's Rest to put an end to the killing. "Carmath, Kimon... Spread the word. Tell the others to lay down their arms." *** "Kasan! Kasan! Kasan!" You've won. The thought crashes down on you like an avalanche, but at the same time seems as ephemeral as gossamer strands blowing on the breeze. Crenus is dead. The Selutha dynasty, your family's old enemies, are done. "Kasan! Kasan! Kasan!" Rebels gather around the tyrant's body, jostling to get a glimpse of it. A few spit at him. One tries to stab him with a spear -- but a priest of Karuss grabs the weapon's shaft and yanks it away. "Where's his crown?" someone asks. The crown... What better symbol could there be of your victory than to stand atop a hill with Crenus' diadem hanging from the end of your sword? "Send runners," you say. "Tell everyone. No one else touches the king's tent." *** Nevis stared at the page, at the drawing that had tormented a prince and hardened a king's resolve. It was a good likeness. It might have been drawn from life, with the %man's% face right before him, instead of glimpsed in a dream. Murderous eyes glowered on the parchment. Nevis was glad he was alone, and no one else could see him shudder. They were the very same eyes that had glared down on him over bloody fists. He turned away and stood up. The boy's mouth was dry, as though those terrible orbs had sucked the moisture out of his body. He went to the side table and filled a cup from the pitcher of water. The liquid was warm, but still soothing. He washed it down his throat and poured another. A sudden burst of noise made him fumble and splash his hand. Raised voices and pounding feet sounded beyond the tent. They grew into a tumult, the din of a multitude. A returning army? Had Crenus slain the Kasan? But even as the happy thought crossed his mind, dark presentiment followed. The tent flap began to open. Nevis darted into the antechamber. The boy held his breath and peered out through a tiny slit in the canvas, hoping against hope that it would be the king. But it wasn't Crenus' handsome face which emerged from the daylight. It was a bloody, mutilated visage. %name% Kasan. Nevis groaned. He pressed damp fingers against his mouth to stifle the sound. Water splashed from the cup in his other hand. %name% gazed around the tent. Then he moved towards Nevis' hiding place. The boy's heart hammered in his chest, faster and faster, till he thought it would burst through his ribs. But the Kasan paused. He stared down at the table. At the journal. "Take this. Keep it safe. You may read it if you wish. And if I fall..." Nevis moaned behind his fingers. *** You gaze at the book, uncomprehending. It's your face. Yet the paper, the lines... They're aged. Someone drew it years before you crossed the sea, long before the king's agents might have set your likeness down on parchment. You turn the pages, bewildered. Understanding dawns by degrees. The breath freezes in your throat. Crenus' journal, written when he was a boy. Prophetic dreams. Visions of West Kruna's destruction. All of it whirls through your brain, pirouetting epiphanies. No... No... No! King Crenus was a tyrant, damn it. A monster. And you killed him, because you're a hero. That's how your legend goes. That's what inscribes you on the pages of history as West Kruna's greatest champion. If people knew, if they read these words... If... Flames blaze around your hand. *** Nevis gasped. And this time his hand fell away from his face, releasing his shock into the air. But %name% didn't hear, didn't turn. %He% was still staring at the journal. Fire flickered on the monster's fist, poised to obliterate Crenus' words. People would never know. They'd never... The boy's eyes flashed. No! He couldn't let that happen! Nevis pulled his sling from his belt and pressed the cup into it. He burst through the flap and swung the weapon, feeling the unfamiliar weight at the end of its arc. %name% turned, startled. The cup struck %him% in the side of the head. *** The boy... His image flashes inside your brain along with the bright lights. Blood dribbles down your face, from a fresh wound or the one carved there by Crenus' blade. Memories dance around your skull. They settle into place, teasing and taunting. The boy... The one who laughed at you. The one you had to shut up. All this emerges from your throat in a wordless roar. The journal... It's gone. The bastard... That little bastard! You draw your sword and barge out of the tent. There he is, sprinting past startled rebels and disarmed soldiers, flying beyond the camp, onto the ruined fields and churned up earth. You roar again, a murderous war cry that bursts from your lips unbidden. Everyone's staring. You glare at them and they look away. The boy glances over his shoulder, sees you, and accelerates. You run after him. He leans down, throwing everything he has into a desperate burst of speed. But he's weak, and you're strong. He's a child, and you're a %man%. He's a wretched little piece of crap, and you're %name% Kasan. You devour the ground, drawing nearer and nearer. The boy looks back again and screams. The terror on his features makes you want to hurt him even more, to stomp on his face till it's a bloody mess. "Nevis!" someone shouts. "Help!" The boy flails his arm. "Help!" He slows down and slips behind the warriors who line up in front of him. You come to a stop, staring at an orc, a felpuur, and a half-elf. "Is there some sort of problem?" the orc says. "Get out of the way!" "I don't think so." He brandishes his huge battleaxe. "I'll kill him! I'll-" "No. You won't." The half-elf draws her daggers and slips into a fighting stance. The felpuur's claws slide from her fingers. You almost laugh. These fools, these three little fools think they can stop the %man% who killed King Crenus? "Do you know who I am?" "Yes," the orc says. "And it doesn't take a genius to know what you are." You step forward. And someone moves between you. "%name%!" Tessa says. "Tessa! That boy... He..." She turns to the others. "Leave. Now." "Are you sure?" the orc asks. "Leave." He nods. They hurry away, the boy in their midst -- clutching Crenus' journal. "Hey!" You take another step. And Tessa Tullian raises her bow. She stares at you along the arrow, eyes sharp above its gleaming point. "Get out of my way! I have to stop him! I-" "Hugh and Rakshara are dead." "What?" "You didn't even know, because you were too busy chasing crowns and attacking children." "I... I have to stop him!" "No. You're going to turn around and walk away. And you'll keep going. You're done here, with that boy and with West Kruna." You snort and take another step. "One more, and-" "And what? You'll shoot me?" "Yes." You stare at her, and words from a lifetime ago drift through your mind. "Welcome home." "You... You wouldn't." You laugh. "I'd just catch the arrow!" "Try me." Her face is a mirror. The steady eyes, the cold cast of her lips. And you see yourself -- everything you've done, all that you are, captured in the hatred and anger of a woman who was once your friend. "It's where the Kasan family belongs." You turn around and walk away. *** Not even kings can challenge fate, So Crenus learned but much too late, He tried to save but earned the hate Of subjects crushed below the weight And blood-drenched steel of war. The conflict bloomed, the vultures fed On rotting fields of legions dead; Ralmarthan burned and tears were shed, The kingdom plagued by war. -- Anonymous, The Tragedy of King Crenus (first sung in West Kruna years after the Battle of Burden's Rest) Category:Against the King